coincidence?

http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/06/27/bigfoot.ap/index.html

is it a coincidence that this corresponds with my vacation to Michigan around the same time?

this blows

likes to roll in the hay, if you know what bochman needs to get his ass back to writing for the blog. being a yeti, i'm too fucking lazy to like doing this every night. also, i feel that our readers prefer his stylings to mine. let's be honest, i don't have that many interesting things to say. i'm listening to a band called the waybacks right now. i saw them the other week here in richmond. they kicked ass. the best part of the concert was when they played some grateful dead covers. the grateful dead were pretty much the best band ever. the waybacks played "brown-eyed women". it's about moonshining. i've had moonshine before. i like it. one time i gave a mason jar of it to the dane. from what i gather, he pissed in someone's window on the juniata campus. thank god for shotgun's moonshine (that's the name of the guy that made it). one time this old man from back home gave me some tomato wine. it looked like piss in a jar. it didn't have much flavor that i can remember, but it was alcohol, so what the hey. speaking of hay, every summer i used to get hay for my uncle's horses. i'm talking about throwing around 300+ bails in 90 degree weather. the hay tends to stick to you then and it makes you itchy. i like the smell of hay. david medlin likes hay too, if you know what i'm saying. i fucking hate hot weather. it was so fucking hot in richmond today. i wish we'd have another ice age. yeti's would populate the earth. i think that would pretty much be my utopia. and ice age filled with hairy hippie chicks. speaking of hippie chicks, does anyone remember tully, that hot hippie chick from juniata. i mean, that girl was fucking smoking...only problem was her fucking legs and armpits were thicker and fuller than matt bochman could ever dream of. i wonder what ever happened to her. alright, i can't think of anything else stupid to write. this has been a stream of consciousness from the yeti.

Somewhere in Maine...

...a Scientist mourns. Yes folks, it's a sad day here at Dr. Yeti. You see, someone near and dear to the Scientist's heart died yesterday, Chris Benoit. i imagine that it's pretty rough going for the scientist and i'm sure he'll pray to his science god tonight thanking her for not taking Hulk Hogan, his most beloved wrestler.

i'd like to talk about the Benoit murder-suicide. the question i would like most to have answered is did he use wrestling moves on his wife and son? don't you think it would be cool if he would have used the tombstone piledriver or the superfly splash? i think it would only be fitting.

but seriously everyone, let's take a moment to reflect on all of this. don't use steroids. see what happens?

r u n n d o v r

in the scientists absence, i think it only fitting that we all share a story about him. i realize that probably only myself and dr. snail have stories about the scientist, but i think it may be fun to see what we can come up with.

a couple weeks ago, i mentioned that i had a story to tell everyone about running something over. maybe, that's what it was, i can't remember anymore. anyhow, that's what this story is about. i may gloss over some of the details, but this is basically what i recollect.

the scientist and i travelled to state college to party with our friend chris deats. also attending were reg, c. lamont, dirty fwank and a few others that escape me at this time. i think katie ivers and danielle smith may have been there as well. as usual, the scientist and i proceed to get hammered. deciding that we had had enough of the shenanigans (i think i was pissed at a certain lady and man at this time), we left, heading back to huntingdon. about halfway back the scientist complains that he has to take a piss. being that we were in a fairly secluded area, i pulled off the road, the scientist jumped out and relieved himself. we then continued on our way back the juniata. close to the school, we noticed a jeep in front of us swerve. unfortunately, my maneuvering was not that deft. thump!!! we hit something. a big brown something. i did notice at this time, that my car had come of of gear (the sexcort was a stick). when i tried to put it back into gear, it was a bit "spongy", but i shoved it in anyway. we got back to j.c. and i turned around to park in front of cloister. when i put the car into reverse to back into a spot, the brown something dislodged and remained in the middle of the road. giddy like two school girls, we jumped out to inspect. here we had run'd over a porcupine!! this was a big one. if i had to guess, this mofo weighed close to 30 lbs. we tried to take pictures of it with bochman's camera phone, but they didn't come out. i collected some quills from the road and we left the bloodied animal to die. the next morning, the body was gone and i had quills stuck all over the front of my car.

0h yeah, i remember why i thought of this story. it was in relation to the wheelchair dude being dragged by the 18 wheeler.

anyhow, had the scientist not need to stop and pee, the life of an innocent porcupine would have been spared.

Drain the Maine vein.

Tomorrow, in the wee hours of the morning, The Sciencette, The Kung Fu Roommate (i.e. Mala), and I will begin our journey to the great state of Maine. Either along the way or at the final destination, we're slated to link up with The Teacher, Hairy Parry, and both of The Teacher's sisters who are or want to be teachers as well. We'll call them Angela and Jamie.

Maine is a wonderland. You can buy a lobster for like a dollar anywhere. Stephen King lives there, and if we're to believe his books, so do all of the monsters, ghosts, aliens, evil spirits, and crazy people in the universe.

Maine is an entirely different color of green than the other states I've been in too. I'm not saying that it has more trees or anything, the green is just different. Maybe you have to see that for yourself.

Anyway, with no splinternet access at the rental, the millions and millions of Dr. Yeti's fans are going to have to count on The Yeti and Dr. Snail for new material. I'll be back to posting on July 3rd.

Chuck Norris clogs the toilet, even when he pisses.

Hippie dreams do come true.

Warehouse Fire Claims Ton of Marijuana

EDINBURG, Texas (AP) — Firefighters who spent half an hour fighting a blaze in which 2,000 pounds of marijuana went up in smoke breathed so much of it that they would have failed a drug test, a fire chief said.

It took more than 35 firefighters, 1,000 gallons of water and five gallons of chemical suppressant to extinguish the warehouse blaze on Wednesday, Fire Chief Shawn Snider said.

U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents were investigating the origin of the drugs. The Hidalgo County fire marshal was investigating whether arson was the cause.

Snider said Thursday the firefighters were exposed to so much marijuana smoke that they would not be able to pass a drug test, despite wearing air packs to prevent them from inhaling toxic or hazardous fumes.

One can only imagine that the local convenience stores were sold out of all of their snacky treats soon after.

She has a butter face.

Some of you probably haven't heard the term "butter face" before, as in, "Dude, she has a total butter face." This refers to a potential target of man-love that's sexy everywhere but her face (but 'er face, git it, git it?). You know, this could be a chick with a dynamite body and great personality, but it looks like her face was lit on fire and then beaten out with a sock full of nickels.

There are plenty of people out there, probably women, who would say, "Quit your bitching and just get your wiener wet. Who cares what she looks like? Turn out the lights." It's basically the old adage, "It's not the face you fuck but the fuck you face."

Science has recently delivered a big pimp-slap to all of these people though. Work out of Kim Wallen's lab at Emory (check out this sweetass) shows that, "Contrary to popular opinion, men are more likely to look at a female's face before other areas when looking at pictures of naked women." Aw shit, he just ruined your theory!

The study also involved women +/- birth control. Compared to the men, "most of the women were more interested in the sexual activity," but how much depended on their hormone levels regulated by the pill. Interestingly, chicks taking birth control "were interested in the overall view of the photos and 'background' items like jewelry."

There are a few simple lessons here people. 1) Ladies, don't always accuse your man of checking out another girl's funbags. Chances are, he was just looking at her face. I guess it's still pretty obvious if he's ogling the badonkadonk though. 2) Women, start spending some more time on the face instead of worrying about shoes and clothes. 3) Guys, keeps some Ortho Tri-Cyclen shiny stuff laying around your places and you just might be able to distract a chick enough to bone her.

This has been a public service announcement from Dr. Yeti.

Sammy Sosa is some kind of asshole.

Yesterday, Sammy Sosa hit his 600th home run to become only the 5th person ever in Major League Baseball history to reach that mark (the others being Hank Aaron, Barry Bonds, Babe Ruth, and Willie Mays).

You know what? Fuck him.

Sammy Sosa is a disgrace to baseball, it's fans, and America. This is the same barely intelligible d-bag that corked his bat in 2003. Why doesn't anyone remember that shit and oust his ass? Hell, we don't even know how many times he's used a corked bat, so I say we have to strike at least 300 homers from his record.

I'm pretty sure that son of a bitch is, or at least was, juiced on steroids too. You don't get a cranium that large unless you're injecting monkey juice or related to me, and I'm pretty sure taint-cork Sosa isn't on my family tree (looking at him does sort of remind me of Darren Moser for some reason though).

We should let John Rakar "kick him in the fucking throat," hot glue 3rd base to his rectum, and ship the piece of trash back to the Dominican Republic.

Kill you Sosa!

The gayest shit ever?

I'm pretty sure this is the gayest thing I've ever read:

Celine Dion has landed the official song for U.S. Senator Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign. Dion's "You & I" will accompany Democrat Clinton as she travels across America in her bid to become the next U.S. leader in next year's election. Clinton last month launched a competition on her website asking people to vote for which song she should use in her campaign. Among the other tracks in contention were U2 songs "City Of Blinding Lights" and "Beautiful Day," The Staple Singers' "I'll Take You There," The Temptations' "Get Ready," Shania Twain's "Rock This Country!" and Dixie Chicks' "Ready To Run." Clinton's husband, former U.S. President Bill Clinton, used Fleetwood Mac classic "Don't Stop" for his successful campaign in 1992.

Now try to tell me with a straight face that that doesn't suck taint.

If you're trying to be the first woman president of the U.S. (who's also a douche, butt-ugly, can't decide on a last name, and a bigot) why would you pick a song from a damn Canuck?

Circumcision in the U.S.

Are you cut, or are you the infamous Hooded Pecker?

Apparently, circumcision rates in the U.S. have decreased recently from about 90% in the 1960s to under 60% today. It varies by region and ethnicity, but that's a lot of foreskin flapping in the breeze if you ask me. Like Mel Brooks said, just nip the tip; the ladies love it.

Much of the decline is blamed on (or maybe "attributed to" is a better phrase) the high influx of Asians and Hispanics during the latter half of the 20th century. I guess they don't like anyone bringing sharp objects near their wang-dang-doodles.

If you ask me though, that's retarded. Who wants a sea cucumber in their pants when they could have a one-eyed, no-finned, purple-headed trouser trout instead? Give that pecker some character like the Liberty Bell.

And let's face it, smegma likes to grow in foreskin. Yep, dick cheese, Mycobacterium smegmatis ("The Sciencette and Phagette work on that by the way," says the man who used to work on vaginal yeast), frumunda cheese, the old organzola, shaft butter - whatever you call it, smegma likes to grow on uncut knobs and it's the nast.

Now, I know that Asians love Cucumber Pepsi and Hispanics probably eat like gila monster taint or something, but nobody wants to get near a wiener dripping cottage cheese out of its end. Plus, circumcision reduces the risk of getting AIDS. That's a two-fer right there, less stink and less STDs.

The millions and millions of Dr. Yeti's fans - go do society a favor and get rid of the foreskin. You'll be healthier, the chicks will dig you, and I think they can use all that extra skin to patch up burn victims...or make hot dogs.

Real athletes play Cornhole.

I played a few games of Cornhole on Saturday at Dr. Maggie Braun's graduation party (Dr. Hurricane, PhD). I'm pretty sure I lost every game, but I did come to the conclusion that it should be an Olympic sport.

Let's face it, there's just no enough hillbilly games going on at the Olympics. Ballroom Dancing...what the crap is that? What kind of douche biscuit on the Olympic Committee decided to call that nonsense a sport? And don't forget curling. Canada, what are you doing?

I want to see athletes playing Cornhole at the Beijing Games. Let's see some saucy Nicaraguans dominate the Washers tournament. I know the New Zealanders could sweep the Keg Toss medals.

Dr. Snail, Yeti, Medlin, what are some other good hillbilly games? I'm sure we could come up with something involving moonshine consumption...

This is 100% real.

Do you want to know the real reason why we can't find Osama bin Laden and bring his to justice?Chuck Norris already took care of it.

I've been saying this for years:

A Beautiful World

Did you ever wonder what life would be like if Chuck Norris was the President of the United States? I never have because politics pisses me off, but you still might find this little number highly amazing and entertaining.

Welcome to the Chuckocracy bitches.

observations

i have observed two things today that made me chuckle by their sheer absurdity.

first:

i was in wally world buying a mixer so i could whip up some delicious cheese cake. i was in the check-out line behind a man whose peach fuzz was no less than 1 inch long. i have no idea how he could grow it like that. anyhow, as i'm waiting my turn, a older gentleman in his early sixties walks in a snags up a cart. i notice immediately that his t-shirt reads:

REAL MEN
DON'T NEED
INSTRUCTIONS

i smiled to myself and thought about what sort of badass this gent fancies himself to be, when i looked down and noticed that he was wearing velcro strap shoes. apparently his shirt was referenencing the fact that he didn't need instructions on how to tie his shoes. he simply circumvented the whole problem and bought the velcro shoes. good for him.

second:

i was flipping through the channels earlier today and noticed the michael douglas celebrity something or other. i tuned in to see who might be playing and watched marky mark swing a club off the 10th tee. as they flipped from group to group on the course, they settled in on interviewing kenny fucking g! kenny g is an avid golfer. not only that, he's a fucking badass at golf. in fact, mr. g was rated the number 1 musician golfer by golf digest. i am still in shock from learning this. in fact, i'm about ready to call shennanigans. i must save though, i bet chuck mangione would kick kenny g's ass any day on the golf course. and then when he won, chuck would say, "feels so good."

in unrelated news, i learned something this weekend: when matt bochman tells you to go camping, you fucking go camping.

Double Standard

This is the most sexist shit I've ever seen. Men and women will never truly be equal until this nonsense stops. Fight the power!

pop a wheely

http://www.caller.com/news/2007/jun/07/man-wheelchair-gets-ride-front-tractor-trailer/

not sure if everyone has heard about this, but i felt the need to throw it out there. on one hand, it sucks taint being in a wheelchair because that's basically what got the guy into the whole situation. on the other hand, being in a wheelchair is probably what saved his ass.

i ran over something one time. it wasn't a man in a wheelchair, but it was probably just as testy. i'll tell you all the story in my next post.

Juniata River Rats, cover your asses.

The Juniata College Men's Rugby club, i.e the River Rats, have a fine tradition of inducting new members by making them run/swim across the Juniata River at the Spillway, retrieve a stick from Corbin's Island, and return it to shore without getting it wet. I don't know why they have to get naked for River Runs, but then again, I never knew why they had to get naked to do the Zulu Warrior celebration. Let's just say that rugby involves a certain level of homoeroticism and leave it at that.

Anyway, this post stands as a warning to all current and future ruggers. I came across this while checking out the current PA Fishing & Boating Commission's Regional Reports:

Anglers Mathew and Heidi Roush were enjoying a leisurely evening fishing on the Juniata River this past weekend; trying their luck with nightcrawlers to land some catfish. Much to their surprise, Mathew had a strong hit, and reeled in a red-bellied piranha.

Just imagine that thing fastening its jaws around you and chewing a hole in your taint! I hear a small school of piranha can skeletonize (skeletalize?) an entire cow in like 3 minutes. Rats, when you do a River Run, cover your ass...and all of your other prized anatomical parts.

Dr. Snail says there's nothing to worry about; piranha are tropical fish and could never survive a harsh PA winter. I agree, but what if some mad scientist created this fish? It could be a mutant that loves the cold (and rugby scrote). It might be a transgenic that expresses the genes necessary for creating the "antifreeze" in the blood of Antarctic fishes that keep them alive. Maybe Jay Hosler got to this thing and pissed it off. In any event, you've been warned.

Everyone in PETA is an asshole.

For the blessedly ignorant people that have never heard of PETA, it's a group of hippies that are "People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals." These are the douches that protest outside of science labs that use animals for testing, throw paint on people wearing fur coats, and generally act like a bunch of retards (or fucktards if you prefer). I guess they're all vegetarian (or confused), but why don't they care about killing vegetables? Hell, plants make oxygen and animals use it all up. I'd rather save the organisms allowing me to breath and kill the competition, wouldn't you?

Anyway, the Hitler-style propagandists over at PETA headquarters came up with this little gem:
I know computer animation can do a lot these days, but I bet those sick fucks actually hooked a dog just to make their point. It's like when Mr. Ed used to "talk" on TV.

PETA, you suck taints. Why don't you go worry about something else while I euthanize all the animals that are abandoned because people can't listen to Bob Barker and spay or neuter their pets. You're all useless to me. Cure human suffering before you worry about animals, ok? And if you think being vegetarian makes you a badass, read the greatest piece of literature on the subject ever. And if you want, take a look at some PETA hatemail that Maddox received as a result of being smarter than a PETA person (i.e. having the intelligence greater than or equal to a 5th grader).

All I have to say is that I've had no less than 3 fish personally thank me for catching them. I know 3 isn't a lot, but when you only catch one a year, it's a significant percentage.

The Bochman Family Reunion

The Sciencette came with me to the once-a-decade Bochman family reunion. We don't plan to gather so infrequently, but it just happens.

Anyway, Julia and I headed over to my mom's place to wait for Goiter to get home from work on Saturday, so we did a little fishing in the mean time. I caught a baby bass, but the water was too clear and low, so all of the trout were spooked. I should just connect some wires to a motorcycle battery and stun the fish so I can scoop them out. That's pretty much the only way I'll ever catch a trout.

After the usual fishing shenanigans, I loaded the old Escape full of women and headed north for adventure. It wasn't a bad drive, but my dad was in a surly mood when we got to the cottage he'd reserved for the weekend. It didn't have any air conditioning and was overall pretty craptastic in his estimation. I guess what I'm saying is, never stay at the Snowridge Motel in Mayville, NY. It's not worth the arm and leg they charge.

With no AC but plenty of heat and humidity, we had to cool off the only way we knew how - by drinking copious amounts of frosty cold alcoholic beverages. Goiter was sucking down vodka and cranberry like it was going out of style, and the old man was doing a number on an 18-pack of Miller Lite. At some point, the Sciencette told my dad that Chuck Norris uses a cheese grater for toilet paper, and he nearly soiled himself laughing.

The next day, my other sister showed up (late), we played around on the shores of Lake Erie for a while in Barcelona, NY, hit up the Cheese House, and then motored on over to Long Point State Park on scenic Lake Chautauqua for the reunion. I pimped around a family tree that I'd researched (Mormons would love me...except for the atheist thing) and then I had a revelation.

I need to grow a mustache.

All of the Bochman men have mustaches, all of them. I was like a total outsider without a Boch-stache parked under my nose. I mean, I knew I was a total disappointment to the family, but the least I can do is cultivate some lip pubes so I can fit in.

Or I could stay clean shaven and not look like an out of work porn star...whatever.